The Avant Guard: Groundhog Edition by University of Dallas

2 An Invitation from Student Foundations

Per the Constitution of the Student Foundation, we exist to "enhance the quality of life among both the students of the University and members of the local community." I am writing this having just returned from Ashford Hall, a nursing home five minutes away, with four other SF members. At Ashford, I met a 93 year old woman, Virgie, who "can't remember past last week" and doesn't "remember any thing about [her] son but his name." Yet she also said that, "Here, I am content. I don't need anything else." She emanated a spirit of gratitude despite her situation - which was sitting in front of a TV for 9 hours a day because someone was present with her. The Saturday nursing home visits that we are beginning in earnest this semester are perhaps the truest activity to our mission. Colin Goodman summarized what occurs there: "The only reason you give you heart away is to find it again." The power of being fully present with a person is like a sauna for the soul. The elderly live and breath a remarkable simplicity, and this spirit is communicated to anyone who is truly present with them. All are welcome to join us at 11:00 at the Tower on Saturday mornings, we return shortly after Noon. -Charlie Archer Student Foundation President

A note from a Senior Editor realizing she must soon graduate: When I first thought to do a Groundhog issue (I mean it’s UD… how could we not…) I had envisioned something which I thought would capture that celebratory, drunken spirit we all tap into along with the beer. As always, when we got to putting together this issue, it became much more than I hoped. There is a lot of debate going on about Groundhog nowadays, after the amazing job Student Life and Andrew Narduzzi did when our dear park failed us, some are afraid we’re beginning to stray away from the rebellious roots of the celebration. After GH week, however, and after working on this issue with my friends, I have to disagree. No we didn’t trek out late at night to the Forbidden Forest, our cozy fleeces are a hundred times better than tshirts handed out from cardboard boxes, and I won’t be leaving this year with my ‘Groundhog pants’, noted for the smatterings of mud that can never quite be washed out. But I did spend the week drinking without a care beside friends who just found out they have to retake comps and alumni who are stuck in relentless job-searching. Yet, from the spirit and cheer you never would have been able to tell. Groundhog is and always will be our own party of defiance, our time in the face of all the cares and worries not only to cast it all aside and show we know how to throw a damn good party, but further we can do it on a (would-be) lame holiday centered around a rodent and his shadow. We may not have the same issues as those defiant, stir-crazy students of 1963, but I have to entirely disagree that the same rowdy, exuberant spirit isn’t still present in every Groundhog celebration. I hope you enjoy our little tribute to that spirit– and cheers! -Olivia Close Avant Guard Editor *As I sit looking in the past, however, I am doggedly pushing AG into the vulgar, electronic future so…. CHECK US OUT ON FACEBOOK AT UD AVANT GUARD FOR MORE EXCITING WORKS!

The Illustrious and Creative Avant Guard Staff: Front Cover:

Cecilia Lang

Back Cover:

Print by Maddie Pelletier

Illustrations:

Megan Brennan and Cecilia Lang

Editors/Submission Handlers:

Natalie Martinez, Philip Lenzen,

Leanne Rodriguez, Tricia Bernardo, Jeffery Fink, Gracie Smart Hannah Glick, & Aaron Kim Chief-Editor:

Olivia Close

Brigid Hyde

Printer/Handler of Chief-Editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Meltdowns:

Jeff Richards

A Call to Action! As you will see in this issue, the Avant Guard is a fun, alive, and exciting publication! Barely yet two years old, it is already receiving campus status. However, in order for this work to continue we need volunteers for the next years as seniors graduate from the staff. Being involved can happen in many ways, from advertisement to dispersal to editing. If you are interested in being involved in Avant Guard, email me at oclose@udallas.edu, and we can start bringing you into our work! This is also a great way to be involved in Student Foundations without being an SF member. Freshmen and Sophomores especially consider! -Olivia Close

4 Table of Contents Groundhog Pledge

-Annie Zwerneman & Mary Stone Groundhog Memories

-Peggie Harkins Remember Groundhog

-Jonathon Cunningham The Profound Poetry Corner

-Tricia Bernardo Ode on a Groundhog Beer

-John Keats, Olivia Close, & Kimbo The end of UD Ignorance: My Life with the Real Groundhog

-Fr. Thomas Sonnet: 8 pm on a Tuesday

-Cecilia Lang and Ali Sentmanat The Comfort of Groundhog After Spring Rome

-Clare Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Donnell Sacraments of Initiation on Groundhog Sunday

-Alex Taylor From The Ground Hog Protocol: 1990

-Mike Novinski '89 Groundhog Memories

-Dr. Frank Doe Groundhog

-Grace Zischkau

Studies of UD: Winter

-Anonymous Groundhog Remembered

-Dr. Teresa Danze Church Bulletin

Solo Cup Study

The two images of Groundhog on page 16 can be found on alumni.udallas.edu and udallas.edu respectively

A PLEDGE OF UNDYING LOYALTY TO THE GROUNDHOG I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE GROUNDHOG OF THE UNIVERSITY OF DALLAS AND TO THE DRINKING FOR WHICH HE STANDS COUNTLESS KEGS, STOUTE AND TALL, WITH ENDLESS LIBATIONS FOR ONE AND FOR ALL! ANNIE

MARY

ZWERNEMAN

STONE

‘15

6 Groundhog Memories Peggy Harkins The year was 1982, long before the UD groundhog celebration became an official alumni event and drove the original spirit of UD Groundhog underground. This was also before the drinking age changed from 18 to 21, so almost all UD students were of age to imbibe. Dan and I were the Assistant Directors of the Rome program when it was located at the Villa del Pescaccio, and Jim Fougerousse - originator of the Groundhog tradition - was a Director at that time. Jim instructed Dan to make ready a bonfire on the hill across from the campus, near the ruins of an old villa where, rumor had it, Allies had bombed a

party where suspected guests were Mussolini and his mistress. It was a very romantic backdrop for a bonfire, with the moon waxing gibbous. Jim, in an expansive mood as the Feast of the Presentation approached, had also sent Dan in search of a Groundhog rental costume. The nearest thing Dan could find, in the movie production back-lot of Cine Cittå studio, was a bear. The costume, when viewed from the inside, appeared to have been cobbled together from a thousand patches of some small furry animal - rabbit? muskrat? -and it was lucky that the smell of the bonfire covered up the smell of it. Despite the only available beer being Peroni, (though Fouge probably smuggled in his own Gøsser) the Groundhog bear drank his fill and was not at all afraid of his shadow. In fact he enjoyed the American-style breakfast that Dr. Fougerousse had wisely scheduled that morning. The only incident was a 3 am trip to the emer-

gency room resulting from a tumble down the hill, but this proved to be good training for the Harkins' rearing of their future six children. In fact, now that I think of it, that would have been John Paul's first Groundhog, in utero. Cheers, fellow alumni!

#overheardatgroundhog:

DUDE– how much beer did we just put in our fridge?

Remember Groundhog Jonathon Cunningham No matter what happens on Groundhog's Day, Punxsutawney Phil can't change UD's mood, The whole week filled with much cheer, drink, and food, Shadow or no, festivities will stay, Students, alumni come without delay, Tradition beckons, to be shared anew, TGIT, 5K, powder puff, are prelude, On party in the park, the focus lay,

The bonfires reveal copious joy, Friends and scholars rejoicing together, In one hand barbecue, the other beer, Amongst such a crowd one must not be coy, These times we will remember forever, Even though this day comes but once a year.

The Profound Poetry Corner, wherein the innermost shapings of philosophical insight and personal reflection of the poetically-minded thinker take eloquent expression on paper for the meditation of all eyes beyond the worn, hastily-scribbled diaries to which they are usually entrusted

A Very Moving Poem

A Very Deep Poem

I got on a train From Point A to Point B I guess you could say— it really moved me.

Oh to writhe in the tension ‘tween Heaven and Hell!

#overheardatgroundhog Want a bag of jello shots?

Least that’s what I think When I’m stuck in the well.

8 Ode on a Groundhog Beer

John Keats, Olivia Close, and Sir Kimbo Thou still unravish'd friend of drunkenness, Thou foster-child of song and the good times, Blossoming English majors canst express A lit trad tale more sweetly than these rhymes: What Deep-Ellum legend haunts about thy hub For groundhog or mortals, or for both,

In da Rat, the dales of our TGIT pub? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to imbibe? What steins and hidden flasks? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; when ye harsh drunken pipes play on; While those of Scythian are far more endear'd, We piped ditties of raising cups, with no tone: Fair youth, beside the stage, thou should not leave Thy song, nor ever let your glass be bare; But rather may your stein be always raised with gleeful cheer, For this is Groundhog- let no one ever grieve! Let bliss not fade, for thou hast unlimited beer, For ever wilt thou love, and joyous memories flare!

Ah, happy, happy bowls! that continue to shed Your hushpuppies, beside da delish barbecue; Happy Aramark workers with tongs, judge unwearied, For shambled songs sung and danceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d anew;

#overheardatgroundhog The best thing about Scythian is theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re all Catholic, and all single.

More Happy love! more Happy, Happy love, endless Happy Happy Happy love! Brave the perilous inferno, for smores stalt be enjoy'd, Ourselves left fully roasted, it barely even toasted; Rising fire side chats ripples like the smoke above, Ice cold beer in hand was heavily employ’d, To combat the burning forehead, as parched tongue hosted.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what picnic altar, O glorious conductor of the feast, Lead'st thy pertakers to the grounds, O what surprise, A magical estate reprised and in glowing lights drest! This little space by pave’d roadway or Madonna pond shore, Or where art is built in maze like citadels, Is filled of this folk, until the start of morn And, little space, thy will forever more Be raging hard with stories that all will tell For though art groundhog park, always to return.

O drunken state! Blithe attitude! From the wheat seed For all partaking men and maidens wrought, With quarter-zip and the trodden dance of much need; Thou, Dallas Blonde and Cider brewed, dost tease us out of thought

If only for eternity: O Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, We shalt remain, to future Groundhogs we shall go! Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, " Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—O what the hell, Ye know I’m drunk, and that’s all ye need to know."

THE END OF UD IGNORANCE: MY LIFE WITH THE REAL GROUNDHOG Father Thomas Esposito, O.Cist.

MY BEEF WITH UD GROUNDHOG IS PERSONAL, NOT PROFESSIONAL. And I’m Italian, which means that when you slight me, you insult my entire family, and then I have no excuse but to give you what you deserve: a lesson in family heirlooms and the authentic meaning of Groundhog. Grandma and Grandpa Esposito lived their entire lives in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, a coal-mining metropolis about 80 miles northeast of Pittsburgh (Grandma is still with us). My father was born and raised there, privileged to dwell in the shadow of the only true heir to the title of Groundhog king: Punxsutawney Phil. For more than 120 years, this most inscrutably wise marmot, universally hailed as “Seer of Seers,” “Prognosticator of Prognosticators” and “The World’s Weatherman,” has held sway over clouds and seasons, determining when Winter may pass on and Spring may unfurl her warm and sunny banner upon this great globe of ours. On February 2nd, the solemn high feast of the Groundhog, Phil’s courtiers rouse him from his tree-trunk slumber spot at Gobbler’s Knob, and observe if he sees his shadow stretching forth on the ground. Should he discern his shady counterpart, six more weeks of long snowy Winter are assured; but if his regal furry body casts no shadow, then rosy-fingered Spring is guaranteed to come soon. The legend of Punxsutawney Phil has reached Hollywood (which is basically more or less biblical) proportions: in the classic comedy Groundhog Day, Bill Murray portrays an egomaniac weatherman doomed to repeat Groundhog Day over and over again. The geographical and familial connections I feel to Phil, however, are supplemented by an even greater marvel, one made possible by the blessed gift of taxidermy. Sometime in my middle school years, my family (living in the paradise that is Omaha, Nebraska) received a large brown box from an unknown Punxsutawney address. As I stood in the kitchen eating a snack, I heard anguished shrieks from the living room as my mother dearest pulled out a giant stuffed rodent from the styrofoam packaging. An accompanying letter from my great -uncle revealed that he had graciously bestowed upon us a real (if dead) Punxsutawney Phil- an essential link in the dynastic chain of Groundhogs! This particular Phil, active in the 1940s and 50s, was now immortally stuffed and affixed to a wooden stand. The beautiful creature stands about two and a half feet tall on his hind legs. His finely combed tail (and the clearly visible wire attached to it) juts out gently from his frame. His fur, oh-so-soft-and-cuddly, was the recipient of endless loving strokes by myself and my siblings for many years. His right arm is gracefully extended, and his index “finger” and nail point proudly to the stars as his buck teeth flash a smile one can only call imperial but benevolent. A strange cut or protrusion near his nose led me to believe that he had been shot, perhaps in a publicity dispute with his cruel human handlers. Whatever the cause of his death might have been, the Esposito family was thrilled to have Phil all to themselves, and he was the star of several unforgettable show-and -tells at school.

11 Fr. Thomas in the Golden years with Punxsutawney Phil

Though we knew ourselves to be unworthy of such a gift, we provided him with the adoring affection his dignitary status deserves. In fact, I simply took for granted that a marmot with such a vaunted and revered reputation would be the focal point of any festive event daring to call itself â&#x20AC;&#x153;Groundhog,â&#x20AC;? and that at the name of Punxsutawney Phil, all celebrants across the halls or through the woods or on the basketball courts where the party was raging would bend the knee in homage, or at least hallow that glorious name in some dignified way. Such, however, is sadly and scandalously NOT the case at the University of Dallas. I should note that my extreme emotional maturity enables me to cope with the occasional exclusion of Kris Kringle from Christmas nativity scenes. The Easter Bunny, to my mind, need not dominate every conversation connected with the Resurrection. But when the true reason for the Groundhog season is ignored by debauched UD undergrads around February 2nd, and that furry reason happens to reside in the soil where my family proudly put down roots, I cannot remain silent.

12 My first attempt at a protest of this absolutely unrighteous cause came during my senior year at UD. I had initially rejoiced when I heard that UD had a special devotion to the Groundhog; my assumption was that on February 2nd, Phil would temporarily take his place alongside Plato, St. Faustina, and Leo Strauss as the prime recipients of earnest intercessory prayer from the pious Crusaders. To my horror, I discovered that this “feast” was purely a sham, and accomplished little more than perpetuate a most senseless form of speciesism: that is, the implicit thought that anything animal is inferior to its human counterpart, but can be used to render the human animal as long as the “liberal arts” label is loosely attached to it. I decided to rectify this situation as only a scion of Punxsutawney descent could. The Esposito family heirloom made the trek down to Irving with me for my final semesters of college, and was the centerpiece of my Old Mill living room. I purchased a circular red and gold amulet from Goodwill for him to wear daily, as a reminder of his innate regality to all who frequented our pad to venerate his relics. With the approach of February 2 nd, word reached the undergrads that the entrance fee to Groundhog Park for the party would double the student debt of most philosophy majors. And so I firmly resolved both to avoid paying any money whatsoever AND to heroically gain the proper attention Phil so manifestly deserved. Part one of the plan worked to perfection: I placed a black bow-tie on Phil’s noble neck, carried him to the park, and told the gate-keepers that I was not going to pay since I had an actual groundhog with me. Stunned by the power inherent in the body of the mighty marmot, they were hushed, and waved me forward with a solemn bow of their heads in Phil’s direction. My surging desire to crown Phil Groundhog King and spread devotion to him among all partygoers, however, was a tragic disaster. Most simply gasped with horror when I approached them; perhaps the culprit was Phil’s foreboding fingernail pointing directly at them. When the UDers were not spilling beer on the poor rodent’s delicate fur, they were uttering profound statements such as, “Dude, did you kill that thing yourself?” and “Can we throw him into the fire as a sacrifice?” Most regrettably, my own zeal for his cause lagged, as I quickly realized that holding a stuffed groundhog for hours is a distinctly tiring experience, especially when it prevents you from talking to girls who are afraid of taxidermic handiwork. Despite my failure to elevate Phil to the place of honor at UD Groundhog as a student (and thus to give it sometime worthwhile historical origin), my quest to Punxsutawney-fy our unique school feast continues as a monk-professor. I have judged the current climate too chilly for a renewed effort at unveiling Phil before the masses (or at Mass, for that matter). But mark my words: the shadow which currently stretches across UD Groundhog will surely one day yield to the light of true reverence, wonder and awe at the very creature who made February 2nd the great feast day of days on our school calendar: Punxsutawney Phil.

Sonnet: 8 pm on a Tuesday Cecilia Lang and Ali Sentmanat

There are those times in which I feel manic Too many things upon which I must work The pile of papers makes me writh’n panic The problem is I really cannot shirkThere came a thought as I sat thinking A caramel frosted icy trickling beer Frothed down my throat my woes were gone drinking Before I knew my mind was void of fear

The Comfort of Groundhog After Spring Rome Clare O’Donnell

A bottle in hand made my future bright I was so gleeful that I stopped and wept. I cannot take no more this tonight The night was short in all the hours I slept, I slept so well ‘twas cause I was so woozy So much for work I’d rather be boozy.

It’s been a year since Rome and it’s only too clear, I feel like I belong there, rather than hereThe places of magnificence once seen Now only can be known through a computer screen. Excuses of opportunities gone to waste, Disappear as homework grows with rapid pace. There is only one medicine for this trying time, That harkens back to memories sublime-

Reunions with classmates in the Hofbräuhaus Now is a reunion of alumni and students in the woods Brought together from the Odyssey of life Yes, it’s not quite as cultured, And maybe not as refined

#overheardatgroundhog Hey! What are you doing? There’s no sleeping at groundhog!

But it is a tradition of sometime standingAnd just as much of fun.

14 Sacraments of Initiation on Groundhog Sunday Alex Taylor I. water Alarm! snooze. Alarm! snoozethen awoke from that night of booze, slightly broken, in blankets swaddled. Though late, I arose, a toilette toddled. When into the shower stepped, I looked down and there I saw it, on my foot sinister bruisèd reed, quenchèd wick, blood-oranged big toe. Where came this fruit of the tree of knowledge, I do not knowfoot did not feel, being shod, being trod upon, by comrade or woman, her beer being drunk, placed her heel upon my foot’s crown. I sighed, and let hot rain wash me into morning; stories told, retold shape self, habit forming us to heart’s race while others walk. Love free, but prudently, drop by drop, one credo, pater, ave, glory be. With leg movement out-stepped, gasped, and saw with smile, surprise and awe no bane of Eve bent my foot’s thumb. Of this strange miracle my mouth keeps mum. II. bread If the last shall be first, what of the late? Shall I not then miss my date with Providence, or be a new desert St. Antony? just waitfree choice and God’s will together make fate. Ear approaches preaching on love and hate, the father spoke of how we, like Your people, who prophets killed, abhor our brothers, neighbors, disdain difference, do not bother sharing Your great care, eros distilled, which Galilee sea stilled. To love a stranger mysèlf must cherish, not seeing solo sin-sludged perspiring out and perish ing, but transformed, wine to outpour from Cana’s vats, since this strange One saves the best for late and last. Yet what did I do, be, to deserve, only weakly serving, to be served? domine, non sum dignus-No commanding power have I, to bid ready for that hour your now coming fresh awaits, through which, in us, you gush out gates. Eternal wheatflesh enfolds my cracked, creviced core of clay: see what infant potter lies on such manger hay!

#overheardatgroundhog Wait, who’s your favorite

philosopher?

15 III. oil Round a black, crosshatch, metal table we are conferred, two friends and I; one had a beard near like Aaron’s was of old (down which the chrism dripped, or so I’m told), the other had his Mother’s robin blue rose chain ‘bout his neck for to converse, implore, step by step by step. What wondrous logos hymns might you have heard were you with us there; of his’try’s purpose we asked and told, of love’s own nature circled, though came none too near. We began of vows, then Gilbert’s defense rung loud and bold. Then cherished we reflective silence dear.

But then my Mother’s son did proclaim, that he would jus orange and champagne a mimosa flower, his stomach filled, his mind to anointto inflame our hearts for truth, wisdom’s promised gain: so we’d keep on speaking, point by point by point. Around us more brothers gathered, flesh to refresh by mortal food. Then dipped we two together into oil-dish—Lord, make me not shrewd, no Jude, but share free in this hospitality, not a traitor be to my brothers, sisters, You, nor very nature-me. Nay, give me a heart more easily by your splendor awed, so that I may continue on, to plod, and plod, and plod.

From The Ground Hog Protocol: 1990 By Mike Novinski '89 “I feel something within me,” said the Chieftain from the North, “that compels me to burn Rome.” I have danced in the mud, bathed, in soft rain and sweet mesquite smoke. I have raised my voice in joyous disharmony to the dawn. I have drunk countless libations as darkness came and went. I have vanquished friends and made enemies, lost and then found lovers. I have called the tune and cried the primal scream. I have gorged and starved and sucked the marrow from life. I have stood out on the hilltop and huddled about the fire. I have sweated and froze, laughed and cried, while hope was born and the day died. Is it any wonder that I yearn to return to this place? Now in the darkness I cry out. Now the future has put paid the past. Now the lie must be confronted. How was that Hog the last? “ Hail Caesar!” “What news of Rome?”

Groundhog Memories -Dr. Frank Doe, Biology Few still remember the days when Groundhog was celebrated on February 2nd, Groundhog Day proper. Before the administration consigned the celebration to the weekend, the festivities would commence promptly at 12am, regardless of the day of the week. At the stroke of midnight, seniors would barrel through dorms, pound on doors, wake up slumberers, and drag the bleary-eyed students to the carnivalesque imbibition and antics at the park. The twenty-four hours of drinking often resulted in colorful classroom incidents. We recount below a vivid incident shared by Dr. Frank Doe of the Biology Department.

Dr. Doe’s Basic Biology class (also known as “Baby Bio,” or “the class you take for your life science credit,” or by some reprobates as “the class in which you Sparknote Crime & Punishment for next period’s Lit Trad class”) began each morning at 8AM. This was the immutable fact even during Groundhog season. Because the drinking age was 18 at the time, members of all classes—freshmen to seniors—ambled into Lynch having already participated thoroughly in the day’s festivities. (Of course, this differs to an extreme extent from today’s celebrations.) A seasoned professor who had lived through many a Groundhog, Dr. Doe was prepared for anything. He began his early morning lecture to the sunglassed, hoodied class, unfazed by the lethargy permeating the air. Well into the class, he began to detect an increase in rustling, chuckling and whispering. Figuring it was the typical effect of Groundhog fun, he ignored the murmurs, until a commotion to his right demanded his attention. On the ground, just inside the back doors of Lynch, he spotted a student tottering, as he crawled, hands and knees, through the auditorium. Our gracious professor today reflects that student perhaps did not want to be noticed, or that he simply couldn’t walk. In the moment, though, Dr. Doe remained undaunted and carried on with class as quadruped eventually righted himself enough to stumble into a far back seat, present indeed for class. A few days later the student, incredibly embarrassed by the entire scene, would visit the professor and apologize profusely. And while we regret to laugh at his expense, his valiant efforts to learn the basics of Biology come wind, rain, or drunkenness represent the belief that at UD, we know how to study hard and party hard too.

Groundhog Grace Zischkau The little furry guy, Dark, dirt ground is his sky. Who knows when he will show His face. Who cares? I don't. So I drink. I drink with My friends, my enemies, Because in that moment

We become a drunk crowd. Crowd drunk on smiles, laughs, and— Huh, I forgot. I guess that's what it's about. Cheers.

Studies of UD: WINTER

Winter in Irving. Rain and low temperatures have slicked the ground into slippery wasteland—-the icy treachery victimizes all who dare take on the weather. Most stay home this Saturday morning, but a careful observer cannot help but notice the subtle campus stirrings.

.......

A young woman pulling a headscarf tight around under her chin puffs her breath into the cold air as she walks slowly across the ice that coats the mall. Her shoes give way and she slips onto her derriere1 exposing yellow daisy-printed bloomers under her ankle-length corduroy skirt and tweed winter blazer. A hunched man in the distance ambles his way into mid-ground view, a leather satchel hanging precariously from his shoulder. Suddenly, he too slips, revealing pink hibiscus bloomers under his black heavy coat. 1 French for καλλίπυγος

.......

CSO officers rope off the tower, as sheets of ice – disturbed by periodic tectonic rumbling – are sliding from the roof and crashing off the eaves to the ground below. One large chunk frees itself from the tower and begins falling directly above a young woman with crutches. She looks up in horror, but Officer Dave, in tights and “S-Dave” belt buckle, jumps and pushes the invalid out of danger. The hero’s foot, however, is caught by the icy sliver. Later, he is taken to the office of Dr. Dekat, who applies acupuncture arrows to his Achilles tendon to correct the injury. [Side note: Dr. Dekat, inspired by the valiant demonstration, later adopts a rescue from the shelter and names the puppy Achilles. To remove him from standing position, she orders, “Achilles heel!” Unbeknownst to the dog, however, she actually commands, “Achilles, heal!,” hoping that adequate training will bring the canine to a skill level comparable to graduates of the 3/2 nursing program.] .......

In the deserted Capp Bar, a dirty man’s tooth sticks over his bottom lip as he sighs with satisfaction: seated on the Cap Bar counter, he revels in the lavish comfort of the steamedmilk foot bath. A female in a blue North Face jacket pretending to study at her laptop does not notice the Hobo and his café spa. She is distracted by a reflection in the bar’s mirrors—-in fact, it is her own, and darn it looks good today.

....... Outside on the patio, a tousled-looking fellow smokes a cigarette from his seat at a metal patio table. He industriously inhales and puffs from the cigarette, seeming to enjoy its offerings despite the frigid temperatures and icicle-laden furniture. He works his way through a pack. A passerby notes to herself, “He sure loves to smoke”. She does not know, though, that he has been frozen to the chair for hours and is contemplating how he will ever get out. .......

A student wipes his boots against the door mat inside the church. Releasing a shivery exhale, he loosens his scarf and begins to unbutton his coat when he hears what sounds like a woman’s sigh. He glances around the dark church but sees not a soul. He turns toward the adoration chapel, but another sigh prompts him to jerk his head toward the holy water fountain. He realizes it is the source of the sound, witnessing as it sighs once more with the accompaniment of a bubbly gurgle. Suddenly, the fount begins to glow, and flash a series of brilliant colors. A light turns on in the rear of the church, revealing a full choir at the platform. As they vivaciously vocalize the Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “Christmas Canon,” alternating streams of fountain water rocket into the air in sync with the music, providing the young man the best holiday light show he had ever seen in his life. .......

Groundhog Remembered Dr. Teresa Danze, Classics Really this is just a series of memories, fuzzy and jagged as recollections of Groundhog should be, especially of the clandestine type. I remember the mini-groundhog celebration to be remarkably organized my freshman year, the year that impressed me the most. There were no flyers or e-mails or text messages to tell you that the party was coming up. You had to hear about it from someone else, a topic that was always shared with wry smiles, slightly hushed tones and wink-winks from faculty who pretended they heard nothing. On the night of groundhog, as I remember it, people flocked to the always empty parking lot between Tom Braniff and 183. I had no idea what to expect and was fully reliant upon upperclassmen to lead the way. Large commuter buses waited there to take us to Groundhog Park. Shirts had been passed out either at the bus or in advance out of a cardboard box (I can't quite remember). The park was dark except for the light of bonfires and flashlights near kegs. I think there was music at least one year that came out of the back of a Uhaul. The ground was muddy, everyone of all ages was drinking, most people smoked. There was no food, no water as I can recall, there were no restrooms, no port -a-johns so trees and bushes far removed in the dark woods were your only refuge for relief, though the fear of poison ivy was real. People cried, people sang, things happened in the shadows you could only hear, you made friends with people you had never met and couldn't really see for the darkness. I remember talking about Aristotle with an upperclassman and thinking that life couldn't get better than this - clandestine drinking, in the cold, muddy wilderness, with people who enjoyed literature and philosophy. We didn't need fraternities or sororities with fancy parties - we had Groundhog and the Core to bind us together. Mini-groundhog was the independent spirit of the University made manifest in the crudest, most primitive manner. It was fun but I have to say that when the official Groundhog started my senior year, I could not have been more relieved!

21 Winter 2016

First Sunday Out-of-the-Ordinary Time

Things You Won’t See in the Church Bulletin

Collections Report: Building fund General Time that baby farted during her baptism

$337 $698 Priceless

[Note: Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person(s) you want remembered.] Thank you for your gen-

erosity!

News from around the Rock  Due to the Rector’s illness, Wednesday’s healing services will be discontinued until further notice.  22 members were present at choir rehearsal last Tuesday. Mrs. Crutchfield and Mrs. Rankin sang a duet, The Lord Knows Why.  Barbara remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Fr. Bob’s sermons.  The Christmas concert was a great success. Special thanks are due to the sacristan’s daughter, who labored the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.  Additionally, the Rev. Merriwether spoke briefly, much to the delight of the audience.  Bertha Belch, a missionary from Africa, will be speaking tonight in the auditorium. Come hear Bertha Belch all the way from Africa.  At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be “What is Hell?” Come early and listen to our choir practice

Now offering…

Skype Confessions! See below for priest usernames.

Please join us after the 9AM Mass for coffee, fellowship and corndogs.

Please note: The church will be closed for the holiday season. Priest and servers on Christmas vacation.

22 Winter 2016

First Sunday Out-of-the-Ordinary Time

Don’t let worry kill you off – let the church help.

Thank you for your donations to the food pantry. They were delicious.

Please remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.

Note: The St. Francis Society is sponsoring RCIA for pets. Please contact parish offices for more information.

Next week we will be collecting the following items for donation to the local shelter:    

hoverboards Swarovski crystals lightly used cars Mariachi costumes

   

Shake-weights 1 eggplant gently used undergarments (no polka dots) Capp Bar cards

Community Corner Weight Watchers will meet at 7 p.m. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

Thanks to all those who came out last Saturday to polish the pews, vacuum the carpets, and put Bismuth subsalicylate in the holy water fountain!

The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare’s Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7 p.m. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.

Diana and Don request your presents at their wedding.

Low Self-Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 to 8:30p.m. Please use the back door.

For more information on the church bulletin, see church bulletin inserted inside church bulletin.

GROUNDHOG WEEK: A STUDY OF SOLO CUPS Cupsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; journeys through the seven days of groundhog

Almost made it to the park...